Games
by When.its.never.ending
Summary: Series of steamy one shots about Maxon and America's married life and how they keep their sanity in a stressful environment.
"Ames?" Maxon called as he slammed the door behind him.

America looked up at him and frowned, upset at what she found there. "What's wrong, Maxon?"

She jumped up and molded herself to him. She had always fit perfectly under his arm. "Nothing America. Just a rough day."

America's hand reached up and turned his head towards her. She studied him for a moment. "I think we need a shower."

"That sounds perfect." He smiled down at his wife, feeling a weight lifting off of him, at least for the night. He had returned to the sanctuary of their love, and didn't have to return to reality for eleven hours.

America pressed a kiss to his lips. "Get undressed, my King," she twirled his tie with her fingers. "You are poorly outfitted for your next meeting."

He chuckled as he let her twit away. Following directions, Maxon stripped of his shirt, tie and pants before heaing into the bathroom. The steam was already thick in the air. Shucking off his boxers he opened the glass door to the shower where America's silhouette danced in the foggy air.

America gasped, as if surprised by Maxon's presence, and covered her soapy, wet breasts with her hands. "Oh, Monsieur," she said in a poor attempt at a French accent. "I apologize for my trespassing in your private bathroom. How long have you been watching me enjoy the flow of the water?"

"Far too long. I couldn't stay away for another minute."

"I pray you will not punish me too harshly, Monsieur. How will I ever escape such a devilishly handsome rake?"

With a laugh, Maxon wrapped his arms around her middle pulling her to him. "What are you doing?"

Dropping her fake accent, she whispered, "I thought we could play one of those pretend games we talked about."

Maxon remembered back to when they had spoken about fantasies. "Will this require thinking on my part? I'm way too turned on to think right now."

"Well then, my handsome, devilish rake—meaning scoundrel, not the tool—maybe you should demand certain favors in return for this innocent young maiden's safe release. She was trespassing in you private bathroom, after all. The least she can do is please you."

"That's pretty sleazy for a King," Maxon said.

America rolled her eyes. "It's a game. Just go with it."

"Okay, but don't get mad at me for being more devil than rake." He grinned, hoping he looked more devilish than sleazy. "Mademoiselle, there are consequences for trespassing in these parts of . . . France?"

America nodded, grinning and totally out of character. She took a deep breathe before reentering the scene. "Please do not turn me in to the authorities, Monsieur. I will do anything."

"Anything?"

"Yes, yes, anything."

"I require but one kiss," he murmured, drawing her nearer.

"That's it?" she said, losing her accent again.

"It is more than any leaf-gathering tool deserves," he lowered his head and kissed her. She tasted like pure heaven. Her soft curves pressed against his hard chest. He filled his hands with her slick flesh and allowed himself to sample every inch of her mouth. Maxon could feel the abundance of trust flowing between them and he vowed he would never let it leave them again.

She tugged her mouth away. "Monsieur, what is that poking me in the belly?" She batted her eyelashes.

Well, okay, if she insisted on moving faster and making his every fantasy a reality, he wasn't going to resist. Much. "That is what happens to a man when he has a innocent young maiden in his arms." He said, using her words from before.

"I have never seen such a thing, Monsieur," she said, her eyes wide with wonder. "Might I examine your wondrous protrusion?"

"Why would I allow a trespassing maiden to examine my most precious possession? I thought you were supposed to make up for your sins, not become more indebted." He replied haughtily.

"Oh please, Monsieur, I beg you. I promise I will not hurt it, I only wish to unlock it's knowledge. I have never felt anything like this when I have been held before."

Maxon paused as if in deep thought. "It will be allowed only if you give to me your word that you will do exactly what I tell you."

"Yes, Monsieur." America wrapped her hand around his dick, lowering herself to her knees to examine him better.

With a groan, Maxon's head fell back. He tired to think of what to say to keep the scene going but he was caught up in the feel of her hand. He leaned forward, needing the release only she could give him after his day in policy induced hell. He needed to not think for a few moments.

She stroked the length of him. "It's so hard and hot. The skin is so smooth." She rubbed her thumb over the expanded head, and he drew in a shaky breath thru his teeth. America's ministrations were the perfect mix between the innocent curiosity, and her knowledge of his body. "Does that feel good, Monsieur?"

"Yes, that feels really good."

She rubbed his cock head gently. Already his excitement was near the breaking point and it showed. She touched the bead of pre-cum with her fingertips. "What is this?" she questioned. She collected the tiny sample of fluid with her thumb and rubbed it on her tongue. "Oh, Monsieur, the taste is delicious. Is there more for me to sample?"

"God, yes." Maxon gasped.

She slid down his body and licked the head of his cock tentatively. "How do I get more to come out?" she asked.

He reached down and guided her hand to the base of his cock. Then, together, they moved their hands up his shaft towards the head, drawing out another bead of liquid. It was like teaching her about love making for a second time, but this time, she was acting so seductively naive.

She repeated the motion, alone this time, and watched with innocently round eyes as the bead grew in size. She leaned forward slowly, tongue outreached, and hesitantly drew his offering into her mouth.

She made a desperate moan of pleasure when she tasted him. She fell into a rhythm, her hand moving to the sounds of his heavy breaths, and licking the top of his head when she drew out more pre-cum. Maxon let out a deep groan as her pace began to pick up. "Monsieur?" She released him and he stumbled back into the tile wall, leaning against it, disoriented. "Are you in pain?"

"Yes, I think you should fix that."

She wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked it gently, not bothering to pull it away from his body. After she had worked his body back into a frenzy, she asked, "How can I make it better?"

"S-suck."

She sucked bobbing her head to rub her lips over the sensitive rim. He watched her suck him, his cock disappearing into her sweet mouth. His breaths came out in sort huffs.

"Yes," he gasped and his hands came down and tangled in her gorgeous red hair. She moaned around him, the vibrations hitting him hard. He felt the impending orgasm building and instead of fighting it like normal, he gave himself over to the pleasure of his wife's mouth.

"America!" She heard him scream her name and knew what was coming, but instead of pulling back like she had every other time, she locked her lips tighter around him. Her mouth was flooded with the first round of his cum. After a few more bursts, she pulled off gently. She rolled the remanence of his cum round in her mouth, deciding the taste wasn't bad at all.

America pulled his cock back into her mouth as it slightly deflated but remained hard. Humming in contentment at the pleasure she had just brought this man, and the thought of the pleasure he was sure to bring her. She stood up and wrapped him in her arms, bringing his head to rest by her neck. "I love you, Monsieur." She teased.

"Damn, America." His hands flexed on her waist.

Giggling, she reached around him to shut off the water. Deciding to keep their game going, she said, "I have such strange feelings between my legs, Monsieur. What does it mean?"

"Strange feelings?" Maxon stood up straight to look down at me.

"Yes, there is a wetness there, and it throbs and aches."

"Perhaps I shall take a look." He said with a smirk.

"Yes, I think you really should," America said dryly.

"This way, mademoiselle. I will try to help you with these strange feelings." Maxon lifted her into his arms and carried her into their room. He placed her gently on the bed but didn't follow her.

His stare was filled with amusement and heat, so different than the expression he had worn when he had first entered their rooms. America always hated that look of stress and frustration, it made him look ten years older. He was only twenty three but carried the wait of an entire country on his shoulders. His beautiful, broad shoulders. He leaned over her, studying her body.

"I suppose I should dry you off first, so then I can see which wetness you complain about."

"Don't you dare." America growled, grabbing his neck as he moved back.

Maxon chuckled and it sent another wave of heat to her core. "Why mademoiselle, how aggressive this condition has made you, perhaps I shall call a doctor—"

America yanked his hair, causing his lips to finally meet her. "Next time," she mumbled against him.

"I might just hold you to that," he nipped at her bottom lip.

Her hands flattened against his back as she tried to pull him down to her. "Make love to me, Maxon. I need you inside me."

"As you wish, mon amour."

America let out a sob a pleasure as he entered her. "Maxon!"

As they approached the ultimate peek of the act, they were both lost in the words that tumbled out of their mouths with no real meaning except to prove their utter devotion and love towards the other. They belonged to eachother, fully and completely and no matter how bad things got, Maxon knew America would always find another way to make him smile and he knew he would give his life to see her's.

"Je t'aime." He whispered into the darkness as he held to his chest the one thing that held him together.

And beneath her consciousness, America's soul whispered it back.


End file.
